


Stuck

by agentwashingtin



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:38:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentwashingtin/pseuds/agentwashingtin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stuck in an airport because the flights were SO VERY delayed and it’s like two am AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck

"Attention, passengers for flight 117 to Honolulu, Hawaii, your flight has been delayed due to a severe storm warning. New departure time set for 3:00 am. Thank you for your patience and-"

Grif stopped listening and groaned, dropping his bag to the ground and flopping back into his seat. This was the third time his flight home had been delayed and he was starting to think that the universe had it out for him more than usual. He glared at the thunderstorm raging outside and cursed under his breath. Fucking weather.

The man in the seat across from him snorted and flipped a page in his book. Grif hadn't known before now that it was possible to read a book smugly, but this guy was proving that it could indeed be done.

Grif glared at the man. They'd been sitting near each other for a few hours, but they hadn't acknowledged each other until now.

"Hey, you're here too, buddy. Don't forget that," Grif snapped. 

"I didn't say anything," the man said without looking up.

Grif narrowed his eyes. "You didn't have to."

This caused the man to raise his head, though he didn't close his book. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm familiar with your type of attitude. I know what you're trying to say even without you saying it," Grif answered.

"That doesn't make any sense," the man said.

Grif sat back, kicking his feet up to rest on his bag. "Does it have to?" he asked.

The man gave him an odd look and slowly lowered his eyes back to his book. 

Grif watched him for a moment. The stranger sat with his back straight in the chair, head tilted down towards his book. Grif noted lazily that the way the man's hair fell over his eyes was kind of cute. Eh, he had plenty of time to kill, what did he have to lose?

Grif stood and crossed the short distance between himself and the other man. Without saying anything, he sat in the chair next to the man, reached out, and closed his book. The man let out an undignified noise of protest and immediately started to leaf back through the pages, searching for where he was. Grif grabbed the book out of his hands and tossed it onto the seat behind himself.

"Hey, what the fuck!" the man squeaked, clutching a bookmark in his hand.

"What's your name?" Grif asked.

The man stared at him in exasperated confusion, rubbing the cloth of the bookmark in between his fingers. The confusion eventually morphed into anger, and his eyes narrowed to slits.

"Give me my book back," he growled.

"First, tell me your name," Grif demanded.

"Why?" 

"Because I'm interested," Grif said. 

The man let out an indignant huff and snapped, "Richard Simmons."

Grif raised an eyebrow, and then held out his hand. "Dexter Grif."

The man reluctantly shook Grif's hand and then said. "Now, give me my book."

"Look, Dick-"

"No, asshole,  _you_  look. First of all, call me Simmons, not  _Dick_. Second, my flight is just as fucking delayed as yours, and I'd really like to spend the time reading my book. So, if would please give it back, I'd really fucking appreciate it," Simmons finished.

Grif chuckled. "Your lucky we're the only ones here with a mouth like that."

"What the hell is your problem?" Simmons raged.

Grif shrugged. "It's one am, I'm bored, you're here, and I figured we could spend the time talking or some shit instead of sitting in awkward silence."

Simmons looked him over, calming down slightly, and finally nodded warily. "All right, fine. But give me my book."

Grif smiled. He reached back and picked up the book, plopping it into Simmons' lap. Simmons flipped through it, eventually finding the page he'd been at and carefully placing his bookmark in the crease before setting his book to the side.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Simmons finally cleared his throat. "So, you wanted to talk?"

Grif reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. Guess I didn't really think about  _what_  to talk about."

Simmons sighed and rubbed his eyes. "All right, well, I could use something to get me through this." He stood and stretched, spine popping. "You think while I'm gone."

He started to walk away and then his footsteps stuttered a bit and he turned around. "You, uh, want anything?" 

Grif grinned inwardly at the way Simmons' voice cracked on the last word. "Something strong."

Simmons nodded and quickly scurried away. Grif smiled and sat back in his chair. This was going perfectly. 

* * *

Simmons returned not long after that with two large, steaming drinks in his hand. He handed the coffee to Grif and kept the tea for himself, carefully blowing on it before taking a sip.

"Did you think of something to talk about?" Simmons asked.

"Nah," Grif answered, watching with satisfaction as Simmons rolled his eyes. "I figured we'd just wing it."

Grif sat back in the hard plastic of the airport chair, sipping on his coffee. Somehow Simmons had known exactly what he liked. Grif took that as a good sign.

"So, where are you headed?" he asked.

Simmons ran his thumb along the edge of his lid, catching his fingernail on the rim. "Boston. For a job," he added before Grif could ask. "I work with computers. Programming and coding, y'know, stuff like that."

"Nerd stuff," Grif said, quirking his lips into a smile.

"Says the man with the Battlestar Galactica shirt and Millennium Falcon key chain," Simmons quipped.

Grif raised an eyebrow. "Touché." 

"And you're going to Honolulu?" Simmons asked.

Grif nodded. 

"Work or vacation?" 

"Neither," Grif answered. "Well, kind of a vacation I guess. I'm taking time off to visit my mom and sister. I grew up there and I haven't seen them in a while. Thought I'd pay them a little visit."

"So you live here now?" Simmons questioned.

Grif nodded. "Decided to try college back on the continent, but dropped it after a year. I've been moving around since then but I've been here a few years now. Things have settled down. I got a day job. You know how it is."

Simmons nodded. He paused and then asked carefully, "When you say settled down-"

Grif snorted. "I don't have a girlfriend, if that's what you're asking."

"N-no!" Simmons said immediately. "I just meant, I-I haven't seen you around, and I've lived here a few years as well and it's not a very big city."

Grif watched Simmons blush with a sly smile on his face. He decided to spare the man and said, "I live in a small town just outside of the city. That's probably why you've never seen me."

"Ah," Simmons said.

Grif bit down a chuckle. This was definitely a great decision.

* * *

Grif stretched out his legs on the floor. His back dug into the seat behind him, but he didn't care. The ground was infinitely more comfortable than that damn seat. 

Simmons sat next to him, legs crossed, hands in his lap and lukewarm tea sitting in front of him.

Grif crossed his arms behind his head and smiled lazily. He was actually starting to enjoy himself. He'd been talking to Simmons for maybe twenty minutes and already he felt more comfortable around him than anyone else he'd ever met.

"Original series or Next Generation?" Simmons asked.

"Next Gen. I'll take Patrick Stewart over anyone else, honestly," Grif answered.

"You're insane. TOS was better in every single way," Simmons argued.

"Maybe for a show from the sixties. But Next Generation is definitely better."

Simmons shook his head. "All right, fine. If you like TNG so bad... Riker with or without facial hair?"

Grif burst out laughing, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach.

"What?!" Simmons blushed indignantly. "It's a valid question!"

"It's n-not, it's not that," Grif gasped, wiping tears from his eyes. "That's a great question, oh man. To answer: without. Definitely without."

"Well, at least we can agree on one thing," Simmons muttered, traces of pink still on his cheeks.

"What, you don't like facial hair?" Grif questioned.

"Not on him, no. Depends, I guess." Simmons shrugged. Then he blinked, seemingly realizing what he had said. "What the hell are we talking about?"

Grif shrugged. "You brought it up."

"This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had," Simmons said with a shake of his head. "Maybe we should-"

"Hey," Grif butted in suddenly. "Have you ever watched Voyager?"

Simmons jumped at the interruption and then answered, "I've seen a few episodes. Never really got into it." He turned to face Grif. "Why do you ask?"

"I've got the whole box set it you're ever curious," Grif said.

Simmons watched him but didn't answer. Eventually he asked another question about Star Trek and Grif let the offer drop, trying to hide his disappointment.

* * *

"My family's kind of fucked up, I guess," Grif said. It was now nearing two am and they were both lying on their backs on the floor, backpacks behind their heads. Simmons had initially protested, arguing that the floor was filthy and he didn't want his entire body to be touching it, but Grif had finally convinced him, only after he offered to let Simmons lay on his jacket.

"My dad ran out on us when my sister was born and my mom was never around much. She took on a bunch of jobs so that we could keep our house, but that meant she was hardly ever home, and when she was she was asleep. I basically raised Kai up until I left for college. By then she could mostly fend for herself, but I still feel kind of bad about ditching her, y'know?" Grif mused. He toyed with the hem of his shirt, watching Simmons out of the corner of his eye. 

Simmons hummed in acknowledgement. "I guess we're both kind of experienced with shitty fathers then, huh?"

Grif turned towards him. "Yours run out, too?"

"Nah," Simmons said. He paused, trying to come up with the right words. He eventually settled for the simplest statement he could muster. "He and I just never really got along."

Grif nodded. "Say no more."

* * *

"Hey, Grif?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever wonder why we're here?"

Grif groaned. "Don't start that shit, man. It's too fucking late for it."

Grif was still on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes. Simmons had turned onto his stomach and had propped his head up on his arms. 

Simmons went quiet. Grif didn't pay much mind to it until he heard Simmons' breathing change. He removed his arm from his eyes and turned to look. Simmons had fallen asleep with his head tucked into his elbow, eyelids fluttering. Grif smiled softly. With the sound of their voices gone, he noticed how quiet the room had gotten. He looked up over Simmons' head and saw that the rain had stopped. The runways were slick and dotted with puddles, but the sky had started to clear, letting the light of the moon reflect over the water.

Grif groaned quietly in relief, glad that his flight would probably not be delayed any longer, but he also felt a twinge of regret in his stomach. He looked down at Simmons and sighed, a frown dancing across his lips. 

An idea popped into his head and he looked around, spotting Simmons' book still resting on one of the seats. He rummaged around in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen and snagged the book off the seat, smiling to himself as he started to write.

* * *

"Thanks for the company," Grif said, reaching out to shake Simmons' hand.

Simmons nodded, taking Grif's outstretched hand. "Sure. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would."

"Me too," Grif replied. 

They looked at each other for a moment, hands still clasped, until the announcement over the speaker informing them that their flights were now boarding startled them apart.

"I guess I'll see you around then," Simmons said, adjusting the straps on his bag. "Have a good flight."

Grif nodded. "Yeah, you too."

The stood there for a little while longer and then finally parted. Grif made his way towards his gate, turning a corner and disappearing from view. Simmons watched him go with regret churning in his stomach.

Eventually, he boarded his own flight, taking his seat among sleepy passengers, left over from the flight before his, and sat back, staring out the window. He could see Grif's plane from where he was, rolling smoothly down the runway and then taking off into the dark sky.

Simmons shook himself and leaned down to grab his book out of his backpack. He opened to the page his bookmark indicated and jumped when a small piece of folded paper fell into his lap.

He stared at it in bewilderment and then took it with shaking fingers, opening it slowly.

_Simmons,_

_The offer still stands if you ever want to watch Voyager. I'm not moving anytime soon._

_Call me when you get back into town, okay?_

Simmons ran his fingers over the line of numbers scrawled at the bottom of the paper and his lips curled into a smile. He carefully tucked the paper into his pocket, leaning back as his plane took off in the opposite direction of Grif's.

For once in his life he was looking forward to coming home.


End file.
